Your Ivy Grows

Chapter 28

Gotham Hall is a sight to behold. Nestled away in the heart of Midtown Manhattan, the iconic building is the type of venue most would consider a dream wedding location, although few could afford it. The stunning ballroom has inlaid marble floors so clean they seem to sparkle beneath the light emanating from the central chandelier. Tables covered in expensive white tablecloths border the large dancefloor, each one holds a towering floral centrepiece. But the true show-stopping aspect of this room is the 70ft domed ceiling with its breath-taking stained-glass skylight. I can't help the way I keep glancing up at it, rather than focusing on the people around me.

I still don't know what tonight is in honour of, and John hasn't cared to fill me in. Whatever it is, it has to be important. They must have spent a small fortune on securing this venue alone. If that didn't clue me in to the significance of tonight, then the stylist showing up at the house this afternoon with a full glam team and a brand-new dress did. There's a lot of press here, which makes me think another announcement is coming. What that is, I don't know and John clearly didn't deem it important enough to share. I stand here completely clueless, in a dress that makes me feel like I should be getting married on a beach somewhere, not at a fancy government function.

When the stylist had revealed the flowy white dress with intricate lace detailing, I was sure they'd grabbed the wrong garment bag. But no, they'd insisted this was the look for the evening. They'd finished it off with a fancy half-up, half-down curled hairstyle and the kind of makeup that looks effortless and simplistic, yet somehow took over an hour to accomplish. I'd wrongfully assumed we were attending a black and white themed party—it made sense given the outfit choices. That idea was quickly squashed as soon as we entered and I realised I was the only white dress in sight.

I've attempted to break away from John's side more than once tonight, but it's difficult. His assigned PR have been hovering near us all night. They've been making sure John talks to all the right people. They also guarantee he's photographed with them too, so the flash of a camera is never too far behind us. The amount of press in attendance is like nothing I've seen at these events before, at least not since his announcement as the new Captain America.

Whenever I find a moment to slip away, I do. I stand on the outskirts—on the periphery—watching the party unfold around me. I've got no interest in being a part of it. Honestly, I'm distracted because the one person I want to see isn't here yet. 'Yet' being the key word. Barnes said he'd be here and I trust that he'll show.

John keeps trying to catch my attention and summon me to his side, but I pretend like I haven't noticed. I'm working to block out everything around me. Now that I've decided I'm done playing John's games, it makes this a lot easier for me. I don't feel the need to plaster on that practised fake smile, nor do I care to play the part of ever-devoted, loving wife. I'm done. Screw what the PR team thinks, or the media. This is my life. I'm done letting others dictate how I live it.

I'm no fool; I know the power the court of public opinion holds. If we're spotted looking a little frosty tonight, if my indifference towards him is noticeable to those around us, that news could spread fast. It's the type of shit the gossip rags will eat up. If I can get divorce rumours circulating now, it couldn't hurt me in the future. It might actually help me in my quest to be rid of John.

I know from the pitying looks the head of the PR team gave me back when this all started that she knows the type of skeletons John has hidden away in his closet. I'd hate to think how much hush money had to be paid to women John has slept with over the course of our marriage. All done in the name of keeping his image looking squeaky clean. I'm hoping one day someone will come forward—someone they've missed. Someone not gagged by a non-disclosure agreement they signed in return for a hefty sum of money. A girl can dream.